


Confess

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Immediate [6]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bruises, Established Relationship, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Teasing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Really,' Izaya says, leaning in so close to Shizuo that his lips catch the ends of blond hair. 'Who really enjoys weddings?'" Izaya amuses himself during a wedding and Shizuo humors him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confess

“Really,” Izaya says, leaning in so close to Shizuo that he catches the ends of blond hair at his lips. “Who  _really_  enjoys weddings?”

“Shut up,” Shizuo says without looking at him. When he swings his knee wide the impact bruises against Izaya’s thigh; Izaya would cringe, if he were the sort of person to cringe at just a bruise. “People who care about the bride and groom are  _supposed_  to be happy for them.”

“Sure,” Izaya drawls, tipping his weight in to push back at Shizuo’s knee against his leg. “If we could hide in the crowd and not be up on display with them.”

“Like that’s stopping you,” Shizuo says, reaching for his wineglass. Izaya watches his throat when he swallows, the motion of the action working just over the white of his collar and the dark of his tie. “You’re being  _exactly_  as irritating as you always are.”

“It’s all because of you,” Izaya says, reaching out to steal Shizuo’s fork. He twists it between his fingers while he smirks; the other makes a grab for it before Izaya pulls it away, and Shizuo subsides, contenting himself with glaring rather than futile grabbing.

“See?” Izaya says rhetorically, dropping the fork to the table. “You’ll behave enough for the both of us.”

“They’re  _our_  friends,” Shizuo points out. “I can’t believe you’re trying to crash your  _best friend’s_  wedding.”

“My best friend couldn’t care less,” Izaya says, looking past Shizuo’s head towards the couple at the head table. He can see Celty, mostly, still holding to a smile along with the blush that has been threatening to become permanent over the course of hours of focused attention, but all he can make out of Shinra is the dark of his hair as he leans in to say something into Celty’s ear, or maybe just to kiss her cheek; it’s hard to tell from this side of the table. “I’m not sure he’s realized there’s anyone in the room except for Celty yet.”

Shizuo looks aside, considers the pair of them for a moment. “You’re probably right,” he admits, far more easily than he once would have; there’s almost the threat of a smile, even, clinging to the corner of his mouth.

“Glad you’ve seen the light,” Izaya drawls, because it’s nice to have Shizuo agreeing with him but it’s nicer to have the spark of a fight crackling between them. “Does that mean you could be persuading into fucking on the table?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shizuo blurts, attention swinging back around to Izaya as his eyes go dark with shock. “Shut  _up_.”

“I’m pretty sure some of the guests have the same idea,” Izaya points out, cutting his eyes towards the back corner of the room where the darkness is proving insufficient to hide the girl who has rejected her seat in favor of perching on her boyfriend’s lap. “Aren’t bridesmaids supposed to get drunk and get caught fucking in the bathroom?”

“You’re not a bridesmaid,” Shizuo growls. He tries to take Izaya’s wineglass as the other takes a sip that looks more generous than it is; Izaya tips aside without thinking about it, cuts a smile Shizuo’s way as he swallows.

“No,” he hums, slow like he’s really considering it. “I think that would be  _you_ , wouldn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” Shizuo snaps. Izaya lets him grab his wrist this time, gives in to the inevitable pull with enough grace that his wine doesn’t even splash over the edge of his glass. “ _Behave_.”

“Hmm,” Izaya says. “Don’t want to” and he’s leaning in, fast, pressing his lips to Shizuo’s for a moment. Shizuo’s mouth goes soft under his, his reflexive response too well-learned to abandon just because they have an audience this time, and Izaya grins and pulls away while Shizuo is still tipping in for more.

“Please, Shizu-chan,” he chides, lifting the wine to his lips again. “We’re in  _public_.”

Shizuo’s hand lands on his leg, fingers digging in against Izaya’s thigh with bruising anger. Izaya can see the other scowling at him, teeth bared in his periphery, but he doesn’t meet Shizuo’s gaze; he looks past him instead, up towards where Celty is lifting a hand to cover her laugh and Shinra is smiling at her with the singular attention he always shows when Celty’s in the vicinity.

“I think it’s beautiful,” he says, leveling off his voice into something that would pass as sincere for someone who didn’t know him so well, for someone who didn’t wake up with him in the morning, for someone not close enough to see the way his gaze flickers to Shizuo’s for a heartbeat. “Two people finding the love of their life in the other. Remarkably convenient, don’t you think?” Shizuo’s fingers tighten, press a dull ache into Izaya’s leg that sparks pain up to his hip and down to his knee, but Izaya doesn’t stop, keeps talking like he’s only just thought of this, like he’s actually talking about Celty and Shinra at all. “Lucky that they were both interested in each other, that they were compatible, that they both had the same life goals.” Izaya doesn’t look at Shizuo as he goes on; he can feel Shizuo’s hold easing faintly, the decrease in pressure a wave of relief that doesn’t touch the faint amusement in his voice. “It’s amazing, how coincidence works out sometimes.”

“Maybe they changed,” Shizuo says, slow and remarkably calm, like he’s turning an idea over in the back of his head or approaching some conclusion he’s afraid of. “Maybe the affection came first and they--” he cuts himself off, coughs in an unsubtle attempt to clear his throat. “And they adjusted so they could be together.”

“Maybe,” Izaya says, drops his gaze from the happy couple to Shizuo staring at him, brows drawn together in consideration, mouth flat with focus and not with anger. His hair is bronze in the dim lighting, his eyes so dark Izaya can barely see the color of them, the brown so rich in the illumination it looks like chocolate. “Shinra really loves her.”

Shizuo’s forehead creases for a moment. Izaya can see confusion land, settle, deepen before Shizuo’s eyebrows go up, his eyes going wide as he catches up to Izaya’s implication. Izaya’s mouth quirks, he can feel his lips twisting into a smirk, but he doesn’t say anything, and when Shizuo blinks it’s not so he can look away.

“I think…” There’s a pause, hesitation weighted with the double meaning of the words; Izaya can see Shizuo turning over the unspoken phrase behind his eyes, forming the shape of it in his head, fitting it to his experiences with the methodical care that means sincerity for him. Finally he frowns concentration, nods like he’s made a decision. “Celty loves him too.”

The words settle into Izaya’s blood, trickle warmth through his veins like they’re wine, like  _love_  on Shizuo’s lips is some heady drug and not just a string of sounds akin to any other. Shizuo’s flushing, his cheeks going darker as Izaya stares at him, but Izaya is smiling, the heat in his body more than he can contain into just a smirk or his usual taunting laugh.

“Yeah?” he says, swinging the end of the sound high and breathless, a laugh formed into the shape of a word as he leans in and reaches out to fit his hand against the smooth dark of Shizuo’s jacket.

“Yeah,” Shizuo says, a growl without anger, and when Izaya slides his hand over and around Shizuo’s tie Shizuo reaches out, his fingers landing at the back of Izaya’s head to hold him steady as they both lean in towards each other.

When Shizuo kisses him, Izaya can taste the affection on his tongue.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [unscripted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211842) by [vargs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vargs/pseuds/vargs)




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